


Scuffed Knees, Broken Hearts, Tough Kids, Worrywarts

by Einzel



Category: Free!
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Haru will deny everything literally EVERYTHING, Hurt/Comfort, from Makoto's point of view at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:48:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru skins his knee on the playground. Makoto comes (needlessly) to the rescue... because he's practicing for older-brotherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scuffed Knees, Broken Hearts, Tough Kids, Worrywarts

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as a fleeting image in my head, which I thought would completely disappear if I actually pulled up Google Docs and typed down a few sentences. A few hours and six pages later, I had a one-shot, a canon timeline one no less, and I decided that even if it isn't what I should have been working on, I should probably appreciate the fact that I managed to write anything at all, and post it for others to read.
> 
> I feel it's written in a more simplistic style than my usual, probably because I wrote most of it from little Haru's point of view. I don't think I will ever be able to really divorce myself from characters' points of view.

It happens in the blink of an eye, like all playground accidents tend to do. Just as he makes the turn to dodge Makoto’s hand, Haru’s foot slips on the gravel and he rolls to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and pebbles. The skin of his knee screams, but the shock of finding himself on the ground, staring at the world at an awkward angle is greater. And of course, as soon as Makoto cries, _Haru-chan! You’re hurt..!_ , the burst of annoyance his words excite wipes every desire to acknowledge the pain, though Haruka does look down, to find his knee scuffed crimson.

“It’s not that bad,” Haru declares, planting a dirty little hand to push himself off the ground. His legs obey, though his knee stings in defiance. “It’s not even running.”

True, it’s not bleeding at all, but it gleams too damp and vivid in the sunlight for Makoto’s liking. He furrows his brow.

“Haru-chan, we need to clean this!” he cries, grabbing Haru’s wrist to drag him to the nearest drinking fountain. After a few hurried steps, Makoto seems to catch himself and calms his pace, but Haruka scowls behind him anyway. Since when has Makoto become such a worrywart, and why is he treating Haru like he’s little and needs to be fussed over? They might both be little, but Makoto is four months younger, so while Haru has just turned seven, _he’s_ only six and a half, so why does he pull Haru about like he’s a little kid...

At the fountain, Makoto is forced to realize that the faucet is too high up for Haru-chan to lift his leg and be cleaned directly, but Makoto turns the water on anyway. He holds his palm under the flow to gather some in his palm, but in his haste, most of it meets Haruka’s thigh and trickles down the side, wetting his calf.

“Stop it,” snaps Haru, his cheeks too hot. The sharpness of his tone catches Makoto off guard. His hand drops to his side, then finds his other hand in front of him, to wring it like he’s being scolded. Haru purses his lips.

“I’ll clean it. It’s easier,” he explains, gathering a bit of water in his palm. He lets it dribble over his knee, wiping the excess gently with the other hand. Makoto’s shoulders droop a little, but his eyes go wide, like he’s had a revelation.

“You keep doing that, Haru-chan! I’ll be right back!” he tells Haru, breaking into a sprint across the playground before the other can protest.

“Oi! Wait!” Haru cries after him, half bewildered, half exasperated. One minute he’s being fussed over like he’s a baby, and the next, he’s left to fend for himself. Makoto really should make up his mind. It would be plenty for him to do just _one_ annoying thing at a time.

He… wasn’t wrong, though. The coolness of the water feels terrific against Haru’s aching skin, and more dirt clung to his abrasions than he first realized. It takes several handfuls for the water to run completely clean, and even more for the scorching heat to subside. His flip flop gets soggy in the process. Haru’s nose crinkles.

Well, he’s done cleaning his knee, or caring about it for that matter, but Makoto’s not back yet, so Haru pauses, frowning. Should he try to follow, or does he sit and wait? It’s tempting to settle down in the shade and stretch out his legs, but the idea of looking like he obediently waited for Makoto irks him. His friend must not get the idea that he can just fuss over Haru and order him around whenever something minor like this happens. If anything… Haru should be the one doing it. _He_ used to be the one who wiped tears, cleaned scratches, and soothed Makoto. He used to be the one who always let Makoto cling, awake or asleep. Makoto’s _younger_ , for crying out loud, so he shouldn’t be the one fussing. _What gives?_

While he dawdles by the fountain, full of indignity and frustration that itches worse than his knee, Makoto makes his way back running. Haru flushes when he realizes that, sitting down or not, he still looks like he obediently stayed behind to wait for Makoto. His friend avoids the gravel as he bounds over, carrying some packets. Haru only recognizes one of them, because Makoto crams it into his hands immediately. It’s a twin soda popsicle.

Haruka stands stunned, staring at the cheerful logo on the packet as Makoto crouches down, and before Haru can speak, before he can so much as get annoyed, he feels a bit of pressure on his knee, then the obnoxious cling of tape on his skin.

Eventually, Makoto straightens with a smile, forcing Haru to look away. To avoid that look of affectionate accomplishment on Makoto’s face, he peers down, to see a large white bandage fastened in several places. It looks terribly silly somehow. Haru thinks it’s way too big and that’s way too much tape for something as little as a scratch…

“There,” he hears Makoto say, his voice much softened, almost motherly. “Now it’s alright.”

“What about this?” asks Haruka, holding out the other packet, one brow quirked. Makoto grins.

“It’s for us to eat, of course,” he replies with a sideways tilt of his head. “Hurry and break it in two before it melts, Haru-chan! You know I can never do it right.”

“You always try to break it in the wrong spot,” says Haru, tugging the packet open on top. He peels the wrapper off and tugs the sticks apart, until the two halves separate neatly down the middle. Makoto giggles.

“Haru-chan does it the best,” he says when Haru gives him a look. Haruka sighs.

“Hush,” he tells Makoto, then hands him his treat. He pauses. “You didn’t have to do all this. I’m not a baby.”

“You’re not,” replies Makoto a little too quickly, “but your knee really did look pretty bad, so I wanted to help… Is Haru-chan angry at me for helping?”

“...Not really,” mumbles Haru, biting down on the popsicle to end the conversation. Makoto sucks on his own popsicle, but even after Haru throws the wrapper in the nearest trash can, the two of them still idle in place. Haruka wishes they moved. Somewhere, _anywhere._

“Let’s go, Makoto,” he says, taking a step towards the slide. Makoto trails after him.

* * *

They take turns several times, popsicles in hand. Somehow, moving about just feels better than talking right now, probably because the words aren’t coming. Haru always did have trouble finding the right words, the words others want to hear instead of the words he wants to say, but Makoto’s never had that problem, so why isn’t he saying anything?

When he can’t bear the silence any longer, Haru slides down and swings to his feet, rooted to the spot. Makoto slides a moment later, but Haru can hear the squeak of plastic as his friend clings to the side with his free hand, to slow himself down before his legs might knock into Haru’s full force. Makoto now sits on the bottom of the slide, his popsicle finished. Haru turns around.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, apparently out of the blue, because Makoto looks surprised, even confused. Haru frowns. “You keep fussing over me like you’re bigger than me.”

“I’m not bigger than you,” protests Makoto, instinctively pulling his neck in to appear as small as possible. He looks so lost for a moment that Haru wavers. Makoto’s hands clasp around the dampened popsicle stick. “I’m just... practicing.”

Haru stares at him, his eyes urging an explanation. Makoto forces a cough, then lets his neck out again and straightens his shoulders, looking strangely solemn despite his cat-faced overalls and the popsicle stick in his hands.

“Haru-chan, I might become an older brother soon,” he declares, his face uncharacteristically serious. Haruka blinks. His heart feels like it’s jogging in place.

“Makoto..?” he blurts, hardly conscious he spoke at all. Makoto scratches his cheek with a finger.

“Mom has been feeling kinda sick lately, always in the morning she gets sick like she might throw up, and Dad said it might be because she’s expecting a baby. It’s not certain yet, though, he says they need to do a test or something, to see if it really is a baby, but if it is, then I need to practice how to take care of—”

“You’re not gonna practice on me,” interrupts Haru, his face too hot. “I’m not a baby!”

“You’re not! You’re really not!” cries Makoto, now just plain panicked. “But you hurt your knee and I thought, here’s a chance to take care of Haru-chan for a while, to see if I’m gonna make a good brother! I, I did it really well, didn’t I?”

Haruka stares at him flabbergasted, fumbling desperately for the right words to tell Makoto how ridiculous this is, how he refuses to be taken care of, but the words aren’t coming at all. Makoto’s upturned eyebrows knit close together, like he’s worried. He’s always been a scaredy cat, but now he’s turning into a meddlesome worrywart, too. _Annoying..._

“Makoto,” he manages to speak at last. His friend is staring at him so pitifully, Haru just wants to turn around on his heels and run home, and not talk to him until Makoto comes to his senses, but the idea seems really childish, and he can’t afford to lose this game of who is more mature. He forces himself to look Makoto in the eye, hoping deep down that Makoto will not grow up to be very tall, or Haru will look very silly whenever Makoto starts fussing over him.

“You’ll be fine,” he says next, his small fist clenching around the popsicle stick. “You don’t need to worry about being a good brother. You’re fine. Just be like you always are.”

“But, what if this is how I always am?” Makoto replies, his face scrunched up. Haru frowns.

“What do you mean? You don’t usually fuss like this.”

“I don’t, I try not to, but I always want to,” mumbles Makoto. He looks down. The popsicle stick twirls and twirls between his fingers. “Whenever something is out of place, I want to fix it, and whenever something bad happens, I want to make it better. So, when Haru-chan’s shirt isn’t tucked in, I want to tuck it in, but then I get nervous because you don’t like that, so I just tell you it’s not tucked in, but when you don’t fix it, I kinda want to grab your shirt and tuck it in. And when you get hurt, I want to put bandages on it and tell you it will be fine. And when you—”

“Makoto..!” Haruka interrupts, unable to listen. “Are you serious?”

“I am!” cries Makoto, evidently flustered. “I want to do all these things all the time, but you always look so angry that I don’t do it… but I really want to...”

Haru whips his head away. Whenever he feels like he knows all there is to know about Makoto, somehow his friend manages to surprise him all over again. Has he really been holding back?

“But it’s embarrassing…” he mumbles, biting his lip when he hears the words hang in the air like some large, ugly mosquito.

“I know..!” cries Makoto, flailing. “So I try not to do it, but I want to really bad…”

He sounds heartbroken. Haru’s head is spinning.

“Don’t… overdo it,” he blurts, convinced his head is going to explode and fly into outer space any moment if this keeps up. Makoto gasps soundlessly, yet Haru can just tell his face is glowing, and that somehow makes everything worse.

“Is it really okay?!” he cries, sounding terribly eager. Haru cannot believe how ridiculous this is. Unable to shake the thought, he turns away squirming.

“Don’t overdo it,” he repeats himself. Makoto springs to his feet.

“I won’t! I’ll, I’ll only do every other thing that I want to, okay?”

“Every other thing..?” blurts Haru. Makoto nods.

“Yeah, so that I only do it half as much as I want to, is that really okay?”

“It’s... fine, just, don’t tell anyone. Not even your mom.”

“I won’t! Thank you, Haru-chan! This will be _fun!_ ”

Haru can no longer look him in the eye. _This is bad._ He has to do something, or he will be stuck being babied forever…

His eyes light up as he sees an opening: his last chance to escape a lifetime of constant fussing.

“So, Makoto…” he begins, hoping he sounds nonchalant enough. Makoto hums, still glowing. Well, Haru will take care of _that_ right quick.

“When you become an older brother, you won’t be allowed to cling to me anymore, you know.”

Makoto’s breath hitches. It’s not a happy sound, and Haru feels oddly victorious.

“Once you are an older brother, you will have to get tough for your little brother or sister, so you will have to put up with everything scary on your own. No more nightlight for you or anything.”

“No more nightlight..?!” repeats Makoto, already terrified. Haru wants to laugh so badly, but he bites it back.

“No nightlight, no checking for monsters, no clinging to me, no nothing. You will have to tough it out every single day and every single night. And no more hiding behind me, either.”

“Haru-chan, _stop!_ ” cries Makoto, obviously overwhelmed at the prospect. “I’m not ready for this! I’m, I need more time!”

“You don’t have much time left, if there really is a baby coming,” teases Haru. “Poor Makoto. It will be very hard for you.”

“Nooo! I don’t want to be an older brother anymore! _I’ll tell Mom and Dad to take it back!_ ” cries his friend, and Haruka finally loses his composure. He doubles over, hoping Makoto doesn’t see, but his back quakes as his arms strap around, wrestling back laughter.

“No… take-backs…” he forces out, quaking more than ever. Makoto whines like a puppy and clutches the sides of his head, and now Haru _has_ to take pity on him before Makoto might really tell his parents not to have a baby just so he can have the nightlight on for a while longer.

“But…”

With some difficulty, the whining stops. The moment of truth has arrived.

“I’ll let you cling, even when you are an older brother, if you promise you won’t fuss over me.”

This gives Makoto pause. He wrings his hands.

“Not even a little..?” he mumbles at last, obviously unable to imagine himself _not_ fussing at one point or another. Haruka relents. The bandage is holding really well, even if it looks silly...

“You can fuss a little,” he says, looking away. “But _only_ a little. You are not allowed to baby me.”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

Silence falls between them, if only because Makoto needs to catch his breath from being spooked so badly. He looks a little pale, but his cheeks are a splendid shade of pink.

“Haru-chan..?” he says when he’s no longer huffing. Haru hums. “Will you sleep over tonight? I think I’m gonna have nightmares...”

“Okay,” replies Haruka, moving forward again to hide his smile at how easily influenced his friend can be. Makoto hurries to match his step.

“Can I tell Mom I bandaged your knee? I hope she’ll be proud of me..!”

“...Fine,” mutters Haruka, his smile stolen by embarrassment. “But don’t make it sound like it was bad. It wasn’t even running.”

“I won’t, I won’t! But, maybe, when we are done taking a bath tonight, I could bandage it again, since we’ll have to take the bandage off to bathe…”

Haruka sighs. “Fine.”

“Really? _Yaaay!_ I will do a good job, I promise!”

Haru huffs, but he still walks ahead to his house, to ask his mom if he could sleep over at Makoto’s tonight. Now that everything has been settled, Makoto is skipping behind him, humming like he’s heard the best news in the world, and all Haru can think of is that Makoto had better not grow up very tall. Haru is utterly convinced Makoto should be at least an inch shorter, or even a head shorter than himself. That would be for the best, since Haru _is_ four months older than him: it’s only fair that Haru should be taller. Besides, if Makoto grew up to be very tall _and_ a meddlesome worrywart, and _still_ clung to Haruka like a scaredy cat, it would be troublesome.

* * *

Except, some ten years later, Haru finds he really doesn’t mind anymore. To be fair, though, Makoto has gotten a lot better at first aid, and he can now kiss just about anything better, from scuffed knees to broken hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, let me know! Kudos and comments always make my day, and help me keep going. Thank you! <3


End file.
